


The Things My Eyes Cannot See

by Introvertedintellect350



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Admissions of Feelings, Comfort, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Gentle Kissing, Happy, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, One Shot, Thomas allows himself to show vulnerability, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28679319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Introvertedintellect350/pseuds/Introvertedintellect350
Summary: Thomas is months into his working with Lieutenant Courtenay on how to walk sightlessly, their acquaintanceship growing into a friendship that strains at the seams to reach further, deeper, to a place Thomas dare not go. That is, not until Edward pushes past them without hesitation, asking to see what he cannot - drawing Thomas in with him headfirst.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Edward Courtenay
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	The Things My Eyes Cannot See

**Author's Note:**

> Came up with about three paragraphs of the middle of this fic in the dead of night, then expanded around that the next day. Listened to the song _Like the Stars Shine_ by Canyon City as I wrote, and it fits magnificently. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“That’s it, you’re getting it. Just like Nurse Crawley said, you don’t need force, just tap more often.” Thomas encouraged Edward Courtenay calmly as they walked slowly down the lane behind the hospital.

They’d begun to take longer and longer walks as he grew more comfortable with his white cane and more trusting of Thomas’ skills not to lead him astray. Most times they walked with Nurse Crawley, but she was beginning to be needed for more and more patients as they came in, so many days it was just him and Lieutenant Courtenay. His fingers were wrapped lightly around Thomas’ outstretched bicep, his other hand holding his white cane that tapped lightly in front of them as they strolled along the dirt path lined with trees. 

Days had turned into weeks had turned into nearly two months that Edward had been at the village hospital, assigned to work with him and Sybil to get him confident on his feet again and keep watch for any signs of his sight recovering. If he was honest, Thomas had grown quite fond of the man, finding himself looking forward to the hours he would get to walk and work with him. Many days they held conversation as they walked, but currently they strolled quietly save for Thomas’ instruction here and there. They’d been walking for some time in comfortable silence until Edward spoke. 

“Might we stop? I’ve a pebble in my shoe.” 

“There’s a bench just up ahead, a bit off the path we’re on now, is that alright?” Thomas answered. 

“That’s fine,” Edward nodded, and Thomas led the way off the beaten path to a little-known bench sitting in a copse of trees. They may have been within the village limits, but they were on the edge enough to allow for a decent area for walks such as these, and they were still on the hospital grounds, in any case. 

They sat on the bench and Thomas turned to the younger man who bent down to untie his laces. He had watched as Edward went from completely dependent on outside forces to help him move around and eat and put on shoes, to now being able to walk on his own with his white cane and only little help in most other areas of his life. 

Edward sat up a few moments later with a small chuckle, “I’m relieved we stopped, that was an infuriating little bastard.” He turned to face him and felt a hand reach out to tap the back of his own as had become their signal to get one another’s attention. Their silent communication that held more significance than Thomas wanted to allow himself to believe.

“Corporeal Barrow?” Edward asked as he looked towards him. “Can I try something?” He sounded hesitant, but the furrow of his brow said something entirely different.

As always where Lieutenant Courtenay was concerned, Thomas agreed easily. “What would you like to try?”

“Well, you know how I’m being taught Braille, correct?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I might try to see. . .you. With my fingers. In the same way I can now read Braille, I'd like to better understand the man who's helped me so much.” The man’s face flushed pink and Thomas was suddenly glad there was no one else around to see him flush as well. When all Thomas did was huff out a quiet chuckle, he pressed further. “May I? You’ve helped me so much - more than you know, really. And I’d like to be able to put a face to your kind voice.”

If possible, Thomas’ flush deepened. _Kind?_ He thought him kind? He found himself nodding before remembering himself, then spoke aloud, albeit quietly. “You may.”

For a few moments neither of them moved, until Thomas felt Edward’s fingers begin traveling up his arm. Up and over his shoulders to his collar where they settled on his neck, freezing on either side at the contact. He suppressed a shiver at the intimacy of the touch as they skated over his pulse points, thumbs skimming over his Adams apple. Forcing his expression neutral, he focused on the concentration in Edward’s face as his fingers made their way to his jaw, tracing from just below his ears to his chin.

The younger man’s thumb traced gently up his chin to his lips, drawing across first his bottom lip then his top, stalling at the corners and his cupid’s bow. Thomas let out a slow breath through his nose, a prick of pride in the steadiness of his breath as he was aware of how his heartrate had kicked up a notch.

Featherlight fingertips now rose to his cheeks, up and across his cheekbones. They brushed the edges of his hair and withdrew, now smoothing just beneath his eyes and down the bridge of his nose. He saw Edward smile as his fingers stilled on his nostrils, chuckling.

“You’re trying awfully hard to stay still, Mr. Barrow. You can relax.”

At his words, Thomas allowed his shoulders to drop and took a deeper breath in through his mouth, still hyper aware of the man’s fingers resting on his face.

“Better?” he asked wryly.

“Much,” the reply that came was genuine and soft.

His hands continued their gentle journey, running back up his nose once again to the sensitive skin around his eyes. They ran along his eyebrows and his eyes fluttered shut not of his own accord. As if sensing this, Edward trailed his fingertips lightly across his eyelids, then his eyelashes. 

Finally, they rose over his temples and along his hairline. Warm palms pressed against his cheeks and Thomas fought the urge to lean into them and sigh as Edward spoke once more. 

“What color are your eyes?”

He was asked this with such sincerity Thomas’ blood ran hot. Bright blue and surrounded by scars, Edward’s eyes bore into his forehead with intensity like he’d never seen. He took a steadying breath, noticing the way the other man’s thumbs trailed to the corners of his mouth and stayed there, as if he wanted to read the words that came out of them. 

“They’re grey.” he answered simply. He’d never thought much of his eyes, he’d rather they were brown, or the blue poets were always going on about drowning in. 

“And your hair?” 

“Black.” 

Edward blew out a breath, cheeks puffing out slightly as he did so. Then a smile brightened his features and his unseeing gaze fixed directly on his own. For a moment, Thomas thought he could see him, perhaps into the depths of his very soul. Gooseflesh prickled over his entire body and once again he fought back a shiver. His touch felt like electricity, every slight movement against his face pricked with a pleasant pain. 

“You’re beautiful,” Edward breathed, as if he were letting out words that had been stuck in his throat for some time. Surprise rippled through Thomas like a bolt of lightning, breath caught in his throat. The smile faded from Edward’s face and a look of terror replaced it, his hands withdrawing from the sides of Thomas’ face. “Ah, I meant – sorry Mr. Barrow I didn’t mean I – I-” He stuttered over his words, rapidly attempting to backtrack for some mistake he clearly thought he’d made. 

“Lieutenant Courtenay,” Thomas spoke over the other man’s fumbling apology firmly but warmly, stopping him short. A delicate balance seemed to have been struck in that moment, and he had the sense Edward was holding his breath. If his intuition told him anything, it was that the man sitting next to him looking as if he wanted to sink into the ground or run away, had said more than he’d planned to - more than was allowed, but had said exactly what he’d wanted to. 

Years of having to read between the lines had taught him to pick up on signals unrecognizable to others – and this was as obvious a sign as he’d ever been given. All he had to do now was not fuck it up.

“Edward,” Thomas spoke again, injecting as much sincerity into his words as he could manage, reaching over to tap lightly on the back of his hand. He flinched, then as Thomas left his fingers resting there, relaxed slightly. “D’you remember what I said one of the first times we met?” Edward shook his head, a barely imperceptible movement. “Well,” Thomas continued, “I said all my life they’ve pushed me around ‘cause I’m different. You wanted to know how, why I’m different. Well I think. . .you and I might be different in the same way.”

Silence hung in the air like a knife dangling above them, waiting to strike. The tension was thick, and a band of fear tightened around his chest like a cord, squeezing until he couldn’t breathe but in tiny, quick puffs of air as the pause stretched on without a reaction. Had he read the signals _that_ wrong? Could he be about to be reported by the man who had quickly become one of his closest friends? He didn’t think he’d be able to bear the shame of that. 

Then he felt movement along his hand and a finger curled around his own, and all the air rushed back into his lungs. 

“I think you’re right.” replied a quiet voice, and the single finger turned into three which turned into a palm sliding over his own, and fingers threading between his that squeezed tightly. 

Thomas swallowed thickly, emotions in a tumult in his chest as the fear dissipated and the tension turned into something else, something. . .deeper. He looked up from where his gaze had drifted to their clasped hands to find Edward staring intently at him, fighting a smile off his face. He knew he couldn’t see him, but he felt seen in more than one way, just then, and the euphoria threatened to flood him.

“Thom-“ Edward began, haltingly. “Thomas, can I. . .” he trailed off, suddenly looking unsure of himself. 

“Yes.” Thomas had read between enough lines to throw caution to the wind, and closed the distance between them. 

He reached his free hand up to cradle his cheek moments before fitting his lips gently to Edward’s. He heard the man before him gasp before leaning in and eagerly return the kiss. 

His heart thundered in his chest as he allowed his hand to find its way into Edward’s hair and deepen the kiss. He heard a low groan deep in Edward’s throat and failed to fight off a smile that caused him to break the kiss, his chest now heaving. 

“Sorry-” he gasped.

“Don’t be.” Edward cut him off breathlessly, squeezing his fingers and pulling back. Thomas swore the blue eyes staring sightlessly yet intently at him were stripping him bare in more ways than one, and that thought flung another bolt of lighting through his body with a shiver. “Thank you, Thomas.” 

“For what?” Thrown, he frowned in confusion. 

“For helping me see what I couldn’t before,” Edward smiled, chuckling, “that there’s hope for me – us, really - in the world yet.” 

“Of course there is.” Thomas insisted quietly. He’d never given up hope on Edward’s behalf, always wanting him to make it through, to continue to heal as he has been doing. It helped him to focus on someone other than himself, that if he could help someone else maybe he’d learn to help himself in the process. 

“Yes, well. . .” Edward began then trailed off, shaking his head slightly and smiling at him again. If all Thomas ever saw was his smile, he’d be happy. “We should head back, shouldn’t we? Dr. Clarkson’ll be making his rounds soon.” 

“Right.” Thomas agreed with a short nod. Neither of them moved, until Edward untangled his fingers from his own with a decisive breath and reached for his white cane instead. 

They stood as a unit and on their walk back to the hospital Thomas couldn’t help but notice the hand that held his arm was a bit tighter, and within himself noticed a lightness that hadn’t been there before. 

Perhaps Edward was right, perhaps there _was_ hope for them in the world yet.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! I’d love to know your thoughts (no harsh criticism though, please), as this is my first Edward/Thomas fic.


End file.
